A Day in the Life: From the Lost Books of Rapunzel
by Searcee
Summary: Rapunzel's daily routine, and what she really thinks of her inprisoned life and beauty.


A Day in the Life

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From the Lost Books of Rapunzel

By Circe Simpleton

It is a pain to brush my hair…I just wanted to make that clear before I begin. Often I'm put in fairy tales to be some sort of rebellious, yet beautiful girl, imprisoned in a tower, and yet in stories I never complain, I simply do what is asked of me. Well, I'm imprisoned, and I'm beautiful. Actually, make that drop-dead gorgeous. However, I don't like having long hair, nor do I like taking orders from an old lady, whom I like to refer to as 'the witch'. My daily exercising are always the same, since there are no minstrels or jesters to entertain me, nor do I have any friends. An ordinary day (which is everyday for me) in my life would be as follows:

I awake in the morning from the soft sound of chirping birds outside my window. Removing my eye mask, and the cotton balls from my fingers, I slowly sit up, my hair no longer static, as the witch replaced my fleece sheets with silk. Now the entire décor of my room is of pink and lilac satin and silk _everywhere_. A silky lilac tablecloth, along with pink, poofy chairs. The drapery hanging over my bed and by my window are both lilac and pink _combined_. Perhaps my interior decorator wanted to add even more excitement. Please remember that I am saying everything with complete sarcasm. So now, I suppose, you understand just how pink, and how lilac, and how silky, and how satiny my room is. Too bad that I hate pink and lilac, and silk is always cold. 

It is ten o'clock in the morning, the time where I usually wake, and my 'Pure Moods' CD is still running. I always turn it on to relax my mind and I always fall asleep with it still playing.

Then the most fun part of my day begins: the grooming. My silky robe flowing behind me, I step into my bathroom, an extremely spacious room with sandy colored tile along the floor and walls and shower. Red tiles transported directly from Sicily align the trimming of the tile and floor, and there are three copper sinks, and three enormous mirrors so I can admire myself.

I remove my facemask first, for someone as beautiful as myself must always have skin as soft as an infant. Then I brush my teeth, with peppermint paste, imported from Hungary. Then I shower, washing my hair takes an hour in the least, so it is nearly lunchtime when I slip on my bedroom slippers and get back into my robe. Then I dry my hair: another hour.

Words can be heard from outside, someone screaming at me. "Rapunzel, Rapunzel! Hurry up and let down your blond hair!" I sigh. I hate it when she says 'blond'. If any storybooks are to be written about me they must use 'golden' instead of 'blond'. The voice, of course, belongs to the witch who has imprisoned my through the years in this horrible tower. Wilhelmina Fredwolfa Smith. Oh, how I loathe her, detest her, abhor her, and I could keep going on with words of hatred, but I don't have a thesaurus handy.

What age is this that we live in? Surely the witch could have thought of a better way to keep me imprisoned. How I long for stairs! It's the year 312--they _have_ been invented after all! I climb to the window and let my hair fall and she begins to climb. Oh, how it hurts the scalp! I suppose no one has ever considered that having a 165 pound woman, carrying a sack on her back, and wearing boots and three layers of clothes would actually hurt! I have often thought of cutting my hair while she is in the middle of climbing, and let her fall to her endless death as I cackle madly, but scissors have yet to be invented, and I have a sort of phobia of knives.

The witch comes and goes, leaving a bottle of carrot juice and organic apples for me to nibble on. I'm probably going to live to be one hundred, as I eat organic vegetables and fruits each day. I've never even tasted meat.

The evening draws near. Oh how I long for adventure. Well, actually I've heard that adventure can dirty up your dress, and I wouldn't want that to happen. Perhaps true love is what I really need. Then again…I hear my future true love calling my name right now from the window. "Rapunzel, Rapunzel…" I would have answered it, but I've had enough torture on my head when the witch came. Perhaps I'll take a nap instead.

A/N…Hope everyone enjoyed. Please review once you've read, but be gentle, this is my first fairy tale parody!


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